


Tails From Project Furry-lancer

by robot870



Series: Red Fursus Blue [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical language, Ficlet Collection, Gen, furry au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21765439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robot870/pseuds/robot870
Summary: Short stories and character studies from a Zootopia-like universe where everyone is an anthropomorphic nonhuman mammal.More tags and characters to be added whenever I write more!
Series: Red Fursus Blue [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568653
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	1. Velvet

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% unironic, trust me.
> 
> Check out my designs for the cast here! https://www.deviantart.com/starsystemerror/art/project-furry-lancer-823974489

"Does that...hurt?"  
Maine looked down at the wide-eyed cat in front of him.  
"No."  
He reached up to scratch at his antler and a piece of velvet came off in his hand, getting blood all over his glove.  
"Itches, though."

The cat - Washington, he remembered - was speechless. The much shorter man just watched as Maine grabbed a hand towel from his pocket and wiped the blood off his face.  
"You're really sure that doesn't hurt."  
"Not hurting like a wound. Like...peeling a sunburn."

There was silence for a few seconds before Wash spoke again.  
"So, how often does this happen?"  
"Supposed to happen once a year," Maine grumbled, a clear note of irritation in his voice, but not directed at Wash. "Director messes with the growth cycle. Have to shed a lot more now."  
"That guy kinda sucks."  
Maine was preoccupied with itching another piece of velvet sloughing off his antler, but he gave an affirming grunt. He pulled the piece off and threw it in a small box next to him.  
"Freak wants to test this shit," he mumbled, almost to himself.  
Wash's face cracked into a smile, a laugh almost like a giggle escaping from his mouth. "I think that tells me all I need to know about that asshole."

Maine didn't smile much, and when he did, it was hard to see. But he smiled at that. He hadn't wanted a rookie as a new roommate, but he had a feeling he was going to like this one.


	2. Distance

North was not a close-range fighter. He preferred to stay back, sniping when possible or at the very least using guns instead of melee weapons. Unfortunately, he had two very prominent melee weapons growing out of his head.

He was always encouraged to "work with his natural strengths," and that usually meant "headbutting things." One look at his curved horns and most people immediately assumed he was an up-close, in-your-face bruiser. Aside from that not being his fighting style, that wasn't his personality either. He was no wallflower, but he tried to remain humble and give people space. His sister didn't help his case, her being incredibly close to the assumptions people made of him. They just assumed since his horns were bigger, he'd be a bigger version of that personality.

One of the newer recruits had once challenged North to a sparring match. A cocky little rodent of some kind - the memory was fuzzy now. She had insisted on a no-guns rule, kept taunting him when he didn't use his horns. North couldn't remember what was the last straw. Probably something to do with his sister. All he remembered was the sickening crunch of armor, then ribs, as he drove his head into the recruit's chest. The recruit swiftly left the project. People stopped asking him to use his horns in sparring after that. The ones who weren't there for it were always shown the X-rays of the aftermath before they trained with North for the first time.

They tended to keep their distance.


	3. Howl

"I don't howl."

York pouted. "But you're a wolf! Isn't that, like, your guys' thing?"

"Unlike some, I have self control."

Carolina was adamant as always, but York wasn't content to leave it at that. Why would he be? He'd managed to get her to genuinely laugh with enough persistence. Something like a goofy little howl should be even easier.

"Look, I'll do it first," he offered, and tilted his head back. Carolina had her face in her hands almost instantly.

"I know what you're going to do, and it isn't going to work. You don't think everyone and their mother hasn't tried already?"

York acted like he didn't hear her, and began attempting to howl with his weak, scratchy raccoon vocal cords.

"Wooooooo....."

"Oh my god."

Carolina wasn't staring at him this time, but at something just behind him. Or...someone. York turned around slowly, his mouth still in an "oo" shape, to see a coyote with a downright evil grin. Her claw was pressed to the side of her helmet that was resting in her hands, clearly recording. Carolina was mortified. York was not fazed.

"You know, Tex, you're gonna have to work a lot harder than that if you wanna blackmail me. I'd howl for the the Director right now if he were here, I don't care."

Tex's smirk melted into a look of realization. "Holy shit. He's a wolf, right? That would totally work on him."

Carolina rolled her eyes. "Helloooo. Did you see that just work on me? No. What makes you think you can get _the Director of Project Freelancer_ to succumb to instinct by making some dumb noises at him?"

"Fair's fair, 'Lina, but I bet if we caught him off guard we could do it. You only resisted 'cause I made it clear what I was doing."

The red wolf stood up from the table. "I am not part of this," she scoffed, and stalked away, leaving York and Tex cackling alone in the mess hall.

A couple days later, a short, low-quality video of the Director surfaced on Connie's private server for Team Alpha file sharing. Those two had fucking done it. The video was taken down a few hours later, but Carolina had saved it to her own files. She watched the grainy video, heard a cheap howling sound effect played through a speaker, and witnessed Leonard Fucking Church howling like an idiot. She watched it again, and felt an uncomfortable itching in the back of her throat.

...Nope, this was stupid. She shut it off and deleted the file. That was enough of that.


	4. Nine Lives

There was an old saying, back when Earth was run by apes. 'Cats have nine lives.' Some of the feline community embraced the legend. It was part of many cats' spiritual beliefs, even.

Wash was not one of those believers. He was acutely aware that he had one life to live, the single chance at being that he had. Sure, he survived a lot of mishaps that could've resulted in death. Anything could cause death, so people did that all the time. People only paid attention to him because he was a cat.

Every time he ended up in the med bay after a mission gone bad, he'd get jokingly asked what life he was on. He was usually too drugged up or otherwise incapacitated to respond, or else he'd punch them. Bizarrely, the only person to snap back at the jokers was Tex, of all people. One day after discharge, Wash stopped her in the hall to ask why.

She was taller than him, as almost everyone was, but she always appeared to be the same age as him, if not younger. When she put her hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes, though, she seemed decades beyond her appearance.

"I don't know what you believe about multiple lives. Hell, I don't know what I believe. But when I look at you, it's pretty clear you've been on your last one for a long, long time."

She walked off casually, almost as if she hadn't even stopped to talk to Wash at all. He didn't know how to respond. She technically hadn't even answered his question. She just validated what he had always believed, in a weird, sort of ominous way. He shrugged. Tex was always kind of ominous. It was probably nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not really any story/foreshadowing here, just wanted to write a weird awkward interaction between the two and maybe a little ironic joke considering after pfl wash basically lives a whole extra life, haha


	5. Break

She broke things.  
Hearts, bones, bottles. Anything and everything. It was therapeutic. The Counselor said that didn't count as therapy and wouldn't replace her mandatory sessions, but everyone had to do those, and also fuck that guy.

Solo training sessions were the best time for breaking things. Surely there were costs associated with smashing ten coffee mugs with a single kick, but the loot that came from the missions they were sent out on - the Director could call it whatever else, but it was definitely loot - was plenty enough to cover some bulk breakable objects. She headbutted a sandbag, tilting her head to catch it with the sharpened tips of her horns as she pulled back. Heavy particles of sand spilled onto the floor, earning her a warning from the room's filtration system. She grumbled a "shut up," unheard by the automatic system, and tore the rest of the bag apart.

Solo training sessions were also the best time for thinking. South had a lot of thoughts that made her want to punch things, so she avoided thinking much unless she was inside the comfort of a room where she was supposed to attack everything in sight.

The past always brought the worst out in her. Right from the start, she was the bad one. Their mother wasn't prepared for twins. South broke her heart with the ultrasound, then broke her pelvis on the way out.

North got the good grades, got accepted - no, invited - to school sports teams. South got kicked out of boxing when her horns started growing and she refused to wear the stupid helmet because nobody else had to and she headbutted a kid and sent him to the hospital. North got scholarships, got recommended to the most prestigious schools on and off-planet. South got told the only way she'd be allowed to exist in society was if she joined the military.

Of all the fucking opportunities he got, North joined the military with her. Probably some stupid attempt to protect her, or twin instinct. It was infuriating. North joining the military was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. They were placed together more than they had been since they were infants stuck in the same stroller. They were different in so many ways, but somehow, being treated as if they were the same was the worst of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of angsty, but it's just part of the territory for South. I'll try to write her happier in some other chapters, I promise.


	6. Lies

"Well cover me in bells and call me Bobtail, you were telling the truth!"  
"Why would I lie about something as specific and unremarkable as this?" Wyoming asked, shimmying through the gap he had found in a storage room that made travel between the two main halls of the ship much faster.  
Florida shook his head, as much as he could in the small space, and nickered.  
"You never were the most honest person, Reggie."  
The hare scowled.  
"And your time spent with that Gamma fellow has certainly done a lot to make it even worse."

Agent Florida - no, Butch - had a point. Besides the incessant knock-knock jokes, Gamma had a habit of lying about even mundane things. It had even made Wyoming question what reality he was in sometimes. Was it the one where he had had meatloaf for dinner, or spaghetti? Had the training room door's code been changed, or not? Even the AI didn't always seem to know if it was lying. Hardly anyone knew anything about Gamma, though, let alone the fact that it was a compulsive liar.

Speaking of Gamma, a small, smooth 3D render of a wolf appeared on Wyoming's shoulder. Normally the AI would open with a knock knock joke, or a flat, digitized laugh signaling his arrival. Instead, he just...appeared, flickered, and disappeared. Like he wanted to let them know he was listening.

There was an awkward silence as the two shimmied through the rest of the passage. The agents walked off in opposite directions, Florida offering a friendly salute and Wyoming turning to Gamma, who had appeared again.  
"We need to have a talk."  
"No, we do not."


	7. Bleed

She doesn't bleed.  
That's not some stupid metaphor, some convoluted way of saying she doesn't have a heart or whatever. She literally doesn't bleed. It'd be one thing if she was a being of pure mystery that never took off her helmet or her armor. But she has a body. She's got skin, and fur, and teeth and hair. At least, it looks like she's got all that. Who knows what's actually underneath that facade.  
It's not like she doesn't have blood. On the rare occasion you land a punch on her unarmored body, you can feel warmth and something pulsing underneath her taut skin and unfittingly-soft fur. You never see her bruise. It makes sense - you don't visibly bruise, so why would she? But something about it feels wrong.  
You saw that knife slash through her undersuit on that mission. There was no splatter of red, no dark, matted fur underneath. Just a wet glistening patch and then a shifting of armor and it was gone.

You aren't crazy. The others notice it, too. Tex never goes to the infirmary. The Director assured everyone she was receiving private specialized care, which earned a few chuckles, but you know better. CT doesn't like to share too much of her data, but she had no qualms revealing that Agent Texas had zero medical records, not even an appointment or check-up on her files. She may be strong, but it's not like she never gets hurt. It just doesn't add up.

There's always something...off when you fight her. Her movements are too precise. Yours are precise, yes, trained and disciplined. Hers are mechanical. Effortless. Like her brain is moving faster than the rest of the world. Her ears don't flatten when a blow goes whooshing past her head. Her tail doesn't bristle with anger, not even after getting implanted with that disgusting AI, that hellish embodiment of fury. When she beats you, as she does so, so painfully often, she freezes and walks away, like the training holograms that dissipate when their hit swings through you and FILSS makes that horrible noise that means you've fucked up, you lost to a computer.

Agent Texas is too perfect, and that's an observation coming from someone who doubts every move she makes because she knows what perfection looks like and what she can do to attain it. Tex has attained perfection, and it's wrong. It's not just jealousy. It's not. Tex is wrong, and you are going to prove it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second person is fun and I should write more of it tbh
> 
> also, I've been working on another au but I don't have a good starting point to post it in fic form yet so sorry for the radio silence! I'll still keep writing furry au drabbles and whatnot for warmups, though - I have no intention of abandoning this au anytime soon


End file.
